


Gone In The Morning

by GroovynSpoiled (UltimateWriterCharlie)



Category: Queen (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Horror, Blood and Gore, Blood and Injury, Blood and Violence, Body Horror, Brian and Roger don't know eachother, Brutal Murder, Celebrity Crush, Celebrity Roger Taylor, Dead People, Haunting, Horror, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Insanity, M/M, Murder, Murder Mystery, One-Sided Attraction, One-Sided Relationship, Past Character Death, Plot Twists, Psychological Horror, Stalker Brian May, Stalking, Unhealthy Relationships
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-28
Updated: 2020-05-22
Packaged: 2021-03-02 00:14:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,055
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23885815
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UltimateWriterCharlie/pseuds/GroovynSpoiled
Summary: There was a corpse Brian May's apartment.
Relationships: Brian May/Roger Taylor
Comments: 17
Kudos: 25





	1. Dog Corpse

**Author's Note:**

> hi so this is a very very violent and graphic story, and its very horror themed with very horror-typical themes. so you know. if you don't like that kind of thing, don't read it LMAO. also, its not everything you might think... ;)  
> tw/a dead dog

There was a corpse Brian May's apartment.

It was too far into the decomposition cycle to get near, and at the moment he could hear dripping that made his head pound like a jackhammer. 

_Drip, drop, drip._

It hurt. His nails dug into the pleather arms of the love-seat he was sat in stiffly. 

"Please stop," Brian whispered. "Just stop."

But he was avoiding what he knew he had to do. In the morning, it would be too late. The body would have adhered to the tub it had been resting in, and it would be stiff, making it harder to cut into pieces. He worried what it would look like if he saw it right now. It was okay when it first died, but now it was stomach-turning. 

He was in front of the bathroom door before he knew what was happening. The dripping was louder than bombs, and he put his hand on the doorknob. It was freezing, and he recoiled unwillingly at the thought that it was cold enough to rip the skin off of his palms. It didn't, and he entered the bathroom hesitantly.

The lights were on and the body had its arm slung over the side of the tub. It looked peaceful, more peaceful than what it had looked like when he saw it walking down the road when it still had life. The slashes along its neck and its torso and legs were a frightful sight. 

"Jesus," Brian whispered. "I'm so sorry." 

He should have done it in a less unpleasant way. He just got lost in his head and before he knew what was happening, he had already put the body in his trunk and his hands were covered in blood. _I need to talk to someone about that,_ Brian thought to himself. _Blackouts like this aren't normal._

But that was for another time. Now, he had a job to do before rigor mortis set in and the body became too rigid to move accurately.

There was a plastic bag on the ground and he pulled it up into his arms with a grunt. The metal instruments clattered together like a beaded pearl necklace and the first instrument he picked from the bag was a saw. Next, a pair of wire cutters. Lastly, a pair of hair clippers.

He took the saw and dragged the bodies arm towards himself. It wasn't horribly difficult to cut through, but the saw wouldn't go through the bone. He understood this, and he left the arm how it was; cut to the bone in a circle around the upper flesh of the arm. 

Blood pooled minimally into the tub, dyeing the white until he could get bleach and a magic erasure. The corpse was dead for long enough to restrict blood flow, but unfortunately not completely. Brian flipped the corpse onto its stomach and began working on the second arm. Then, he had to pause when he glanced over the neck.

Roger Taylor was truly gorgeous, even like this.

He dreamed of meeting him, but he didn't know it would be as enchanting as it was when he saw him walking down the street the day before with the wind in his hair and a smile on his lips. He was the drummer of a rock and roll band first, and an angel second. He was flawless. It was impossibly difficult to keep himself from meeting him sooner, but his emotions got the best of him and it was the best decision he'd ever made.

Brian put his index and middle finger into the deep gash where he'd pushed his Bowie Knife into its neck. It was cold, and wet, but for a second, the image of the look Roger had given him when he'd first pulled the knife out of the back of his trousers.

God, he was shocked. It was unimaginable. He didn't make any sound when it happened, but he did cough. Brian's face lit up with the hyper-awareness that there were flecks of blood on his face. Before he went out, he would need to shower.

But the body was underneath him. 

Actually, it would be more beneficial to shower with it. He wouldn't reveal anything below the waist, he respected it too much to do that to it, but it would help to clean the blood from its soon-to-be dismembered limbs.

It might get complicated near when he'd split the legs from the torso, but he would figure out a way to cover it. It didn't get as messy as he'd expected, but he must have hit a spot where the body was warm because when he was separating the head, a spurt of blood splashed onto his face and blinded him for a moment. It was still heated, surprisingly, and he reeled back for a moment to wipe the liquid from his eyes.

For a moment, he thought something. But he couldn't. He shouldn't. If anyone dug up the grave he was planning to dig later that night and found the corpse without a head, they would immediately suspect something. He hadn't exactly done the cleanest job, and he was somewhat embarrassed for how sloppy he'd treated Roger's body. He loved him, maybe he should have done a better job. However, time was working against them.

It took all of his strength to fight the urge to keep the head. Or a hand. Or something like that. He really wanted to, maybe he could just take something small. A strand of hair, maybe. A piece of his tongue. But that was too much, he didn't want to hurt him more than he had to.

Brian carefully took Roger's head in his hands and swiped a hand over the cheek that felt stiff and cold. His eyes were shut, but the left eye was slightly cracked open and from the sight, his pupils were blown and the bottom ring of blue showed through the split.

His mouth was closed, Brian made sure. The blood started coming out of his mouth when he made his first incision through the neck and he didn't want to remember Roger like that, so he felt it was better to nail his jaw shut. In retrospect, he didn't even need to go through the trouble of finding his hammer and nails. He could have just waited for rigor mortis to set in and for his jaw to freeze so he could have used a clamp to keep it closed. It would have only taken a few minutes at best, but instead, he'd wasted his time hammering through the bottom of his jaw. It must have been painful, Brian was glad he was already dead at that point.

The blood came effortlessly off of his face and when he was finished, he turned the shower on and undressed. Brian spread his legs to be able to stand up in the bathtub instead of hovering over Roger's separated body and from there, he felt more confident in how his night was going to go and had gone already.

The blood turned black as it went down the drain and when the tap was turned off, he turned to the corpse and smiled. It looked much better than it did before. Less bloody, and less in distress.

The nails were surely going to rust, but that was okay. It wasn't going to happen any time soon. Once he was in the ground, he could rest and be in peace.

Brian took the body and fortunately it was still loose. He put it on the floor and wrapped towels around it, especially the hair which was beginning to cling to the floor. His body told him he had to leave and get the bags, but he just loved the sight in front of him. He had countless magazines of the drummer, countless interviews of his downloaded. And now, he was on his bathroom floor. Well, most of him was on his bathroom floor.

It wasn't hard to put the pieces of his body back together, as much as they could given the fact that they were severed from his torso, and once he was connected again, Brian thought of if he was alive. What would they do? What would Roger think of his apartment? He had a cat, maybe Roger would enjoy her. 

"I love you," Roger spoke in a whisper. 

Brian smiled and closed his eyes. "I love you too."

He picked up the head and smiled wider. Maybe he could keep more than a clump of hair. Just for a few days. That wouldn't be too bad.

Brian loaded the limbs into trash bags; one for the arms, one for the legs, one for the torso, and the head stayed with him in a backpack. He told himself he would take it out when he got to the burial site but in the back of his mind, he knew that wasn't true.

The hair clippers he'd taken out were left on the counter of his bathroom sink unused. He'd thought of using them, but since he didn't want to ruin anything, he left them where they were.

His trunk easily fit the pieces with room to spare. The head rested in the passenger seat next to him, and when he got into the car, he smiled at it. Brian's mind was clear with ease when the base of the neck didn't leak into his car seat, and he was thankful. Maybe Roger liked him too and decided to save him time that he would have to waste cleaning the seat.

The burial site was hidden. Obviously, he wouldn't want anyone finding the corpse and digging it up since it was his and he didn't want anyone to touch it besides himself when he checked on it in the future. Brian made sure no one would ever find the corpse and the secret to how he would be sure no one ever would was the second corpse in his car. 

Brian took to the back seat and with a sigh, he hauled the deceased dog out of the vehicle.

He didn't hurt the dog, but he did find it on the side of the road after almost hitting it with his car. It was flattened over a manhole cover and when he saw it, he knew everything was falling into place, so he put it into the back-seat of his car and waited for the day he'd waited for that had finally come. 

The six-foot deep grave was half-way dug, and the soil was damp enough to make his job much easier. It was still difficult, especially when he found himself tossing the trash-bags into the hole.

"I wish I didn't have to do this," Brian explained to Roger, who was on top of the bonnet of his car. He held up the bag that either contained an arm or a leg with a deep sadness. "I wanted to keep you in my flat, I did, but then..."

But then decay. Right now, he looked like he had when he'd seen him walking down the street, but if he looked close enough, he saw the signs of a decomposing corpse.

"I'm sure you understand. I'll keep you safe, though. I know I said I would put all of you, but...I don't know. I think I'd miss you too much."

Brian smiled at the head on the hood of his car and cast the last of the bags in. The canines corpse was placed once the dirt was halfway over the bags, and past that, he covered the rest.

If anyone came near the burial site, they would only see a poor man's deceased dog. Nothing more. They would see it, and be saddened, but not look any further at what could be underneath. Even police. It was genius, and he knew. No one would find the corpse, and therefore the head was his to keep.

His back was drenched in sweat and his mind was empty and calm. It had been done, and now he could go back to living normally. He didn't have to worry about now. He could be with Roger, or at least as much as he could keep, forever in his flat.


	2. Decay and Molasses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The corpse was inside of the tub, gushing blood and twitching like it was in pain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a lot of people on twitter were interested in this one when i told them the plot so welcome if you're here from twitter

Where did you put a severed head?

It wasn't a question of where, because Brian had put it everywhere you could think in his flat, but a question of where it would look best and be comfortable. 

He'd tried the kitchen, the bathroom, his own bedroom, but none of it seemed to look right. It didn't speak to him like he'd wanted it to, and by the time he'd figured out a place for it, perhaps a temporary place, he had stayed up to four in the morning.

He had a love-seat in the back of his living room where it faced the television. The head was placed on a dinner-tray next to the love-seat, and he seemed content with that for the time being. 

Brian had thought initially that the corpse, especially the head, would begin to fester and smell. It didn't, in fact, it smelled like cologne. And the way he looked now was better than any photo he had taped to a magazine of the man when he was previously alive.

The head still had its eyes closed and he feared to open the eye-lids would result in disaster. Though he did try for a moment, and they were stiff. 

Perhaps in the morning, it would be easier to open. For now, he was tired. Digging in the dirt behind the forest was strenuous work, and now he was tired. He had the head, so he would go to bed with comfort instead of worrying about how he would get back to the gravesite and see him again. Maybe he should have taken photos so he could remember the full-body better. 

In bed, he placed Roger's head on the night-stand next to his mattress. He smiled at it before he closed his eyes, and he could hear a dripping sound in the bathroom that he chose to ignore.

Brian didn't dream that night. He woke up with his back aching and his head pounding, and the dripping in his bathroom that he couldn't ignore anymore. 

As he wandered through his bedroom, something didn't feel right. He didn't feel like he was out of place, but something else around him was. When he turned with a dreaded knowledge that his brain had yet processed as he woke up, the decapitated head was missing from his bedside table. And the dripping grew louder.

"No," Brian whispered, shock-induced. "No, no, _no_."

He raced out into his living room, and saw nothing. His kitchen, nothing. The bathroom, however. 

The dripping grew louder and louder as he approached the door and for a moment, he thought back to the freezing metal-knob that could have torn the flesh from his palms. He knew it wouldn't, and he placed his hand around the handle.

Brian hissed when the grip burned his flesh and once he attempted to take his hand from the metal knob, the soft tissue on the palm of his hand came with it and wrapped itself around the frozen metal.

"Fuck!" He fumed and threw himself away from the door with a wave of seething anger towards the knob in particular. 

His hand was raw, and blood gushed from the wound. Quickly, he made it to the kitchen where he turned the tap water onto the coldest setting. The ice water burned the flesh further, but he knew it would feel better if he gave it time to do so. When he looked up with relief when the numbness set in from the cool stream of water, he set his gaze towards the bathroom again.

Drip, drop, drip.

It was pounding in his skull.

Brian looked back down with a worried expression but the fear faded when he saw his hand. Uninjured, and cold instead of scalding with the memory of ripped-flesh. That wasn't possible, he had seen the blood. But when he made a fist, expecting pain, he instead received nothing. His hand was not injured. The flesh was still attached to his palm.

And the severed head was still missing.

His hand could be held off, but this could not. Slowly this time, he approached the bathroom and found the knob back to its normal temperature. Or so he thought. He put his hand near the knob and felt nothing.

A sigh of relief felt good in his high-strung lungs.

Brian opened the door and found his shower curtain closed. When he stepped forward, a syrupy juice began pouring from the edge of the tub just behind the curtain. He recoiled with surprise and he gasped when an arm, bloody and no longer attached to the body it had belonged to, dropped onto his floor and sputtered against the white rug that had been previously untouched.

"What the hell-" Brian put his hand over his mouth and before he had another second to think of what he was seeing, the curtain opened and Roger's head dropped to the floor. 

The corpse was inside of the tub, gushing blood and twitching like it was in pain. 

He stood in a frozen state while his own blood turned to ice water at what he was seeing. "This isn't real," He told himself. "That was buried." Brian quickly left the bathroom with a new ability to move and threw himself into the living room. The flood of liquid caught up to him soon enough and suddenly, his feet were coating in what felt like molasses and stuck him to the ground like super-glue.

His breathing turned to a heave and he threw his hands over his face. "Please stop, please stop, please-!"

And it was over.

He was back in the bathroom, and the corpse was gone. His hand was on the handle of the door and he was no longer on the carpet, no longer glued to the carpet. Brian looked around the room wearily and put a hand over his forehead with a worried sigh.

"Jesus Christ," He whispered in relief. "I need to calm down."

Inside of the bath-tub, much to his surprise, was the head.

**Author's Note:**

> Please kudos, comment, and bookmark so you'll be notified by email when the next chapter is up.  
> Also please don't contact the FBI on me for the dog/dead body thing I've never done it i just know it might work because the police will get a false-positive anyway-


End file.
